Pierced by Silver
by annaisadinosaur
Summary: They meet in the center of chaos, united by dreary optimism and stupid humor. Whether it is bittersweet or tragic, Remus falls for Arie, falls for a relationship he'll never be able to have, not when there's a war, not when he's who he is at full moon, not when she's a muggle. No girl ever likes a boy full of secrets, but Remus is full of them.


_Pierced by Silver_

**o n e**

. . . . .

Killing a werewolf wasn't known to be a very convenient matter, nor very pretty at that. Contrary to popular belief, however, such an act did not explicitly require a silver bullet and handgun. Honestly, what kind of person really carried that around anyway?

No, the _proper_ way to kill a werewolf took much more investment, more precision, more expertise. And Remus knew that to be the sole reason for Arie in his life, one single motive, one simple yet agonizing task at hand: his death.

But then again, werewolves did tend to be rather paranoid creatures.

It was a bright day in June when he met her, a sparkling, beautiful day, somewhat warm but not too uncomfortable. It would have been a fantastic afternoon indeed if Remus hadn't happened to come across his lovely and amiable neighbor of three years in her home, dead as could be. That was the occasion on which he met Arie, the occasion of death.

Bittersweetly ironic, one might say. But Remus preferred to call it tragic.

. . . . .

It was on the street's corner that the crime took place, in a house that was known to be the quiet and humble home of Irene Kelley. She had been farther along in her life, before it had abruptly ended, of course; she had been a widow, only a little over seventy years old, and wore her long, black dress every day to every night. Sweet, even in her mourning, her neighbors had said.

"Any new leads, Detective?"

Detective Lee felt that sighing at Pierce's prodding was rather unprofessional, but he could hardly help it. She'd been prodding for information for the last fifty-three minutes, _yes, he had counted_, and his answer had not changed once.

"No, Pierce," he said, and the control in his tone was impressive, considering his state of mind. "Absolutely nothing."

There had only been two pieces of evidence that a crime had occurred at all: the front door, blown to mere rubble, and the lifeless, yet otherwise intact body of Mrs. Kelley, found in her sitting room.

The house was quite the opposite of what they were told it once was. The simple home where nothing of great significance ever occurred was now bustling with industrious life. Every room, every drawer, every corner and every dark space had been inspected thoroughly by the members of the Criminal Investigation Department. Medics and morticians and qualified forensic analysts had filtered through the doors, drawing in and drawing out an inane and unnerving buzz.

It had been a full twenty-four hours since the discovery of Mrs. Kelley, and the search to find the culprit or motive behind the murder had yet to leave the ground.

"Has anyone been able to come in contact with her family?" Ariane Pierce asked, hugging her notebook to her chest as she gazed up earnestly at Detective Lee.

Lee could have snickered at the expression on her face, but the situation was too solemn to laugh. He had been thoroughly surprised, though, when he'd found out the week before she was only twenty-one. The way she looked and the way she behaved seemed to signify she was many years younger than she was in truth. She even insisted to be called her _nickname_ as if she was still but a child. He hadn't heeded the request, but no one was necessarily surprised by that. Lee didn't follow orders from just _anyone_.

"Her children have been contacted, yes," he answered, looking away from Pierce—Arie, as she had called herself—and rested his eyes upon the remains of the front door, where two detectives appeared to be ending a conversation with a seemingly miscellaneous man. "They aren't able to come down until tomorrow, but the man who found her body offered to answer any questions that he could for us."

Arie followed Lee's gaze. "Is that him?" she asked, uncharacteristically soft.

Lee half-nodded. "I suppose you'd like to accompany me when I go speak with him." He didn't know why she was so enthusiastic about this case or even how she managed to stick around the scene for so long, but with the way cases had gone with her in the past, he was certainly convinced he wouldn't be shaking her off anytime soon.

At his suggestion, Pierce regained her vivacity at once and hopped on her toes with brilliant animation. "Oh, of course. He's just who I need to hear from!"

Lee tensed slightly at her exuberant energy and drew in a close breath. "Follow me, but keep in mind, Pierce, absolutely no going off on your own separate tangents. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pierce replied, waving him off with an amused roll of her eyes. "I don't know why you find it necessary to remind me every time we speak to someone."

"You have a point," he responded wearily, rubbing his forehead. "It's not as if you ever listen."

"You ought to give me credit. I mean, I do _try_."

Lee, for some reason or another, doubted that.

As they approached the man together in step, they passed the detectives that had been speaking to the man only earlier. The pair nodded to Lee, briefly but cordially regarding their clear superior. He was, after all, _Detective Chief Inspector Malcolm Lee_, and with the frequency in which Lee repeated the title, it was impossible to forget. He returned them a stiff nod, one he reserved for the _lesser_ Detective Constables. He had been one himself only a few years prior, but no one had the nerve to remind him of it.

Arie looked hesitantly upon the man of interest, internally remarking that he didn't look like a man at all. Even with the deep lines and dark circles, there was something in his eyes that reminded Arie of a young boy, one lost and confused in a crowd he didn't belong in, with matters too dark and tainted for a young spirit like his, like a boy forced to grow up too quickly. And that was certainly odd, she remarked, because who really looked at someone and thought something like that?

The man returned her and Lee's gazes with one of sober curiosity, as if regarding them with little additional effort, or as if he had little effort to regard them with in the first place.

"Hello, sir," Lee greeted firmly, if not a bit cautiously. Arie had learned in her short time with Lee so far that things of this nature were best approached with some amount of caution. It was never an easy thing to speak to someone after they'd personally found a close acquaintance, or anyone at all, really, to be dead. "I'm Detective Chief Inspector Malcolm Lee," (He really just _had _to say it every time he introduced himself), "and this is... well." He nodded to Arie, looking as if he could not summon an appropriate title for her.

"Trainee Detective Constable Ariane Pierce, at your service," she supplied quickly, meeting the man's blank expression with a bright, overpowering smile.

Lee didn't take this introduction well, and launched at her words. "Pierce, you can't just—"

She blew him off at once, however, and continued as if she could not hear the detective at all. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Mrs. Irene Kelley, if you wouldn't mind."

Lee glowered at Arie, trying to communicate _remember that thing I told you only seconds ago _with his narrowed eyes. She didn't seem to understand, so he inhaled gently and redirected his attention to the man. "What's your name, sir?"

The man appeared somewhat trifled by their exchange but said nothing to acknowledge it. "Remus Lupin."

"Lupin!" Arie exclaimed with an airy gasp, to which Lee flinched accordingly; he could not act fast enough, however, before Arie began rambling tangentially, as she normally did. "What a unique name," she said, eyes lit brightly. "You're not a werewolf, are you, Mr. Lupin?"

The reaction Mr. Lupin produced, however, was neither Arie nor Lee could have anticipated; she in particular was nowhere near prepared for the deathly change of color in Lupin's face, nor the wide, alarmed eyes, as if she had said exactly just the wrong thing.

"Only joking, of course-" Arie began at once to rectify, but Lee had finally lost his last ounce of patience and cut swiftly across her.

"No, excuse me, Mr. Lupin," he said, "I'm afraid Miss Pierce is only a reporter for The Guardian and she does not have the liberty or qualification to ask such immature questions. I apologize. And, Miss Pierce." He aimed a sharp look her way, prompting her to speak.

"Please excuse me, sir," she mumbled in severe discontent.

Lee cleared his throat, looking distinctly satisfied and reinvigorated with determination. "All right then. Now, Mr. Lupin, what was your relationship with the victim?"

For a moment, Lupin didn't answer, eyes lost somewhere in the floor, as if Arie's question still lingered in his mind. "She was my neighbor, that's all, really," Lupin answered, eyes still glazed and unfocused. "One I saw on rare occasions. I get rather sick often and so I'm frequently away. She would always drop by and say hello whenever I happened to be home." He glanced up, meeting their gazes. His gaze fell upon Arie's in particular, nearly fearful. "I didn't know her very well at all."

Lee, however, was oblivious. "How were her relationships with the people in the neighborhood, do you know? Anyone that might not have gotten along with her?"

Lupin frowned. "I can't imagine that anyone could have an issue with her. She was really just kind of grandmotherly to everyone."

"Hm," Lee mumbled, crossing his arms thoughtfully. Arie was scrawling things down in a desperate rush, nodding her head to communicate that she was listening to and absorbing all of the information he was spewing.

"Well, there was _one_ instance," Remus recalled aloud, "but I don't know how relevant it is..."

"That's all right. Something is better than nothing," Lee encouraged.

"I think he was the mail boy, but I don't know for sure, really. I just know she was fussing over the delivery of something. It was the only thing I ever heard her fuss about. The boy seemed to have gotten quite peeved after her complaining. He was indignant."

"Very particular about her deliveries? It seems like a case of paranoia, doesn't it?" Arie commented, looking hopefully to Lee for confirmation.

He deliberately chose not to answer. Lupin only regarded her with wary silence.

"Did you see this boy leave?" Lee asked instead.

"I'm not really sure what came of it in the end, no."

"All right, we might need to do some further investigation into this," Lee stated, prompting Arie with a nod of his head to write that down for future reference. Not that she really needed to be told. She _was_ rather good at her job. "You were saying earlier how you weren't very close to Mrs. Kelley. What prompted you to visit her yesterday morning, when you found her?"

"I was just coming home and I saw her front door. I ran in, because, well..."

Because it would have been surely difficult _not_ to notice the door.

Lee nodded, absorbing the information slowly, seeming to work through everything in his mind. "Thank you very much, Mr. Lupin. That's all I'll ask from you today." He extended his hand to shake Lupin's, who took it. "Rest would be good for you, I think. Go on and get home. You've been here all afternoon, haven't you?"

He nodded in response. "Just trying to do whatever I can, I suppose."

"You've been a great help. We'll let you know when we find out anything else."

"Thanks."

"Sure," Lee said, seeking to dismiss himself. "Have a good day, sir." His eyes darted briefly to Arie as he walked away, but she didn't move, and Lee ended up leaving her entirely alone with Mr. Lupin.

The look on Lupin's face seemed to reflect his extreme discomfort.

Arie wasn't miffed, though. She closed her notebook, slipping it under her arm. "Say, Mr. Lupin," she said, and leaned slightly into him. "I didn't mean to uncover your secret, I'll have you know. It's just that, with a name like yours, I don't know how you ever expected to hide your identity in the first place."

"W-wha-" He stammered on his words, sounding as if he had forgotten his native language. "What do you mean?"

"You've never heard the story of Remus and Romulus? Raised by wolves, founders of Rome?"

"Perhaps, maybe."

"And Lupin- I studied biology last semester at my university, _Canis Lupis_- it's the wolf species. Your name kind of just spells out werewolf, don't you think?"

"Ah, well," Mr. Lupin said, scratching the back of his neck, "I've actually never gotten that before."

"That's a shame. It'd surely be a good conversation starter."

He looked so deeply frightened, more upset about this fantasy werewolf theory than he had when he had been regarding Mrs. Kelley's murder. She had surely hit a severe pressure point, she concluded.

She still didn't understand why that had produced such alarm, but she didn't want to put him on the spot more than he already was. "That is, unless you don't believe in werewolves." Her smile was rather friendly, and though he was reproachful, the intentional effort she was investing in him softened his tense shoulders, if only slightly.

"Mmh..." His gaze drifted off towards the window. "I suppose I don't."

She allowed herself something more of an encouraging grin. "Well, Mr. Lupin, thank you very much for everything. I wish you a very nice day and the rest of the week as well."

He reunited their gazes once more, looking even less confident than before. "Thanks," he said quietly. "You, too. I think I'll get out of here now."

"Good idea."

He nodded, and moving with no real strive whatsoever, regarded her once more briefly before turning and leaving. She watched as he disappeared, wondering vaguely somewhere in her mind what she ought to think of him. He certainly had proved to be exceptionally peculiar, but she had to consider the circumstances, of course.

She did also wish that Detective Lee hadn't told Lupin that she was really only a _reporter_.

. . . . .

_You're not a werewolf, are you, Mr. Lupin?_

That night, when Remus was lying down to sleep, he found himself staring at the ceiling, wondering why he hadn't fled the country and gone into hiding already.

He found the answer quickly, though, reminding himself that he still had James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily all here, and that he in the midst of fighting a war.

Why had he chosen to live so close to _muggles_? It was all too much to think about. The unspeakable fate of Mrs. Kelley, which had been his fault, so much his fault he could hardly bear to think about it.

And so he did not, and instead drifted off to sleep with that odd reporter girl's words floating through his head.

Fleeing was definitely looking like a valid option. Or perhaps just a name change.

. . . . .

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Trying something new here, so I'd appreciate the feedback! I probably need it. Will be continued. :)**


End file.
